Love

LoveLove
Yesterday, love looked like you loving me when I was grumpy, reading Dickens all day in an effort to forget the pain and letting the children run wild.

It wasn’t pretty.

And when you came down after 5, you sent me up to take a hot bath, making supper and feeding the boys.

Yesterday, love looked like you going down after 10 to make me hops tea like so many times before.

Today, love looked like me bringing your pancakes and coffee for breakfast up to your office even though I was annoyed you didn’t come down to eat, and maybe I shortly considered being spiteful and let you starve until lunch.

Love means staying, even when I want to run hard and fast.
And I love you. Also when I merely know it and don’t even feel it the smallest bit.

I love you, because I promised.
I promised I would stay in the hard times and although there have been hard times, in which I wished I hadn’t promised you anything, I always end up being glad I did.

By which I mean: I’m glad I’m stuck with you.

Love is staying.
And staying means having to do and say really hard things, and going through painful times. In the end it’s always worth it, because I become who I’m meant to be a little more. As do you.

Staying means learning to love a little more selflessly every day.

It means to learn to love in practice like I knew I would in theory on the day we got married. I just didn’t know it would be this hard.

But it is also mindblowingly easy. To just lie in your arms and believe you love me and in the end, you’ll pick me every time.

I didn’t know that being loved and loving someone would feel like this. This close, and safe.

This … always.

That the weaving together of our souls would be unnoticeable. Another strand with every day that passes and every word spoken.

I didn’t know it would be this strangely, soul-satisfyingly wonderful.

Love

 

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